As We Are
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have never been close—they hated each other, really. But after the war, their eyes were opened and they thought that they might be able to move on from the past. Drarry Soulmate!AU Warnings for language and mentions of wartime. For Dani


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts' Secret Santa 2018, for the lovely Dani (Viniloversus).**

 **Note: This is a Soulmate/Single parent!AU (also, first Drarry… we'll see how it goes XD)**

 **Word Count: 4276**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Enjoy!**

Harry James Potter ran his hands through his hair, oblivious to the fact that he'd made the dark locks even more unruly. He looked around desperately for a mop of brightly colored hair, but there wasn't one in sight.

Harry cursed himself a million times over. This was worse than facing off Voldemort—he'd _lost_ his _godson!_ He didn't even want to think of what Remus and Tonks would say to him if they were still here—or what Andromeda was sure to say when he went home.

He pushed his way through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, completely distraught. "Teddy?" he called. "Teddy, where are you?"

All he'd done was hold open the door to a shop for one frazzled woman. In that short space of time, Teddy had gone from right beside him to out of his sight. Harry didn't know where to begin looking. He couldn't have gone far, surely. But what if he had?

"Potter! Merlin's beard, Potter, stop!"

Harry paused in his search, scanning the street for whoever had called out his name. His green eyes landed on a tall, thin man who was awkwardly guiding along a small boy. A small boy, Harry realized, with turquoise hair.

"Teddy!" he shouted in relief, rushing over. He scooped the giggling boy up, hugging him close to his chest. "Merlin, Teddy, you can't run away from me like that. You frightened me."

Teddy, at four years old, had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry, Harry."

Harry nodded once, resolving to give him a proper telling off later, and turn to thank Teddy's rescuer. "Thank you so much for finding him. How can I—" He faltered upon seeing the man's face. He took a step back. "Malfoy."

"Potter," Draco replied stiffly.

Harry looked at his old classmate warily. He had only seen him sparingly at the Ministry in the four years since the end of the war, never long enough to see how he'd been doing during their time of peace. Draco's hair was a bit longer than it had been at school, and Harry noticed that he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt despite the heat—no doubt to cover up the Dark Mark tattooed onto his left forearm.

Harry positioned Teddy onto his hip, then stuck out his hand. "Well, thank you for finding him, Malfoy. I was going mad."

Draco's grey eyes were different than they had been at school, he realized suddenly. Sadder, perhaps, but wiser. They were almost fascinating.

Reluctantly, Draco shook his hand. "I saw him by Fortescue's. I knew who he was—his mother was a relative of mine, after all. He told me he came here with you."

Harry nodded, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Right. Yes, I'd forgotten that you and Tonks… but of course, you never met her."

"No," Draco said softly. "I never did."

Harry cleared his throat. "Shame, that. Er, I've got to get Teddy home. He's going to his gran's on the weekend, so I have to get the flat ready for when she comes to get him."

Draco tilted his head to the side, his pointed chin rising to the right. "Weasley isn't there to help you?"

Harry looked at him in confusion. "Ron? No, he and Hermione are on holiday."

Draco rolled his eyes, a familiar sneer on his lips. "I meant his sister."

"Why—" Harry broke off, laughing. "Oh, Ginny and I aren't… we ended that a while ago. With her job, well—the long distance relationship didn't work out."

"I see." Draco seemed uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to hear that, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "What's done is done, I suppose. I'll see you later, Malfoy. Erm… owl me if there's anything I can do to repay you for bringing Teddy back to me."

He didn't wait for a response, instead walking quickly away from the former Death Eater. Maybe that wasn't fair, but Harry thought he was doing the both of them a favor; they hadn't exactly been close in school.

He shook his head, frustrated at the emotions now raging through him. _It's because he brought up Ginny,_ he told himself firmly. _You just miss having someone that close. It's a sore subject._

But somehow, that didn't feel true at all.

* * *

It was another week before Harry saw Draco again. Teddy was at Andromeda's, so he'd taken the opportunity to buy a drink at the Leaky Cauldron. He took a swig of firewhiskey, wincing slightly at the burning sensation as it tumbled down his throat.

His right hand was clenched around the neck of the bottle, making his scar stand out. _I must not tell lies._ He could remember the day he'd been forced to write that clearly; it was strange to think that there could have ever been any cruelty unrelated to the war, but the proof was carved into his own flesh.

He didn't normally think much of his scars—he'd grown used to them—but today that particular one struck a chord with him. Was he lying to himself? There had been something bothering him ever since his meeting with Draco the previous week. He'd taken to staring at his reflection in the mirror more, his green eyes locked on the soulmate mark on his right shoulder. The words, of course, changed every day, depending on what his soulmate said. One sentence a day—they were the only clues he had to figure out who his soulmate was.

It wasn't enough.

Today, the words read, " _You can never know what it's like to be hated as I am."_

Needless to say, it didn't sound like his soulmate was having a very good day.

Harry was pulled out of his musings by the sound of shouting. He stood up quickly, slamming a few sickles down and rushing out the door to investigate; some habits die hard.

A crowd had gathered on the corner of the block—the wizarding side, of course. Harry pushed his way through the throng of people, trying to see what the commotion was about. As he got closer to the center, he could make out more of the words being yelled. All were hateful, and all were things Harry hoped he'd never have to hear again. And in the center of the mob was Draco, standing stiff as a rod, his face flushed and his blond hair a mess.

"I'm not causing any trouble," he was saying. "You can all leave, I'm just doing my shopping like—"

"But you're not like the rest of us, are you?" one woman called out. "You're one of _them_ , and I don't feel comfortable with you around my children—"

"Hey!" Harry shouted loudly. Everyone turned to look at him, and there were all the familiar mutterings. _It's Harry Potter!_

He moved to stand in front of Draco, glaring at the crowd assembled. "Leave him alone, will you? He hasn't done anything wrong. Just move along, will you?"

"That's a Malfoy," someone near the back shouted, "and everyone knows they were all Death Eaters!"

A shudder ran through the crowd, and Harry recognized the fear in their eyes from the old days. But, damn it, there wasn't a war anymore and he wasn't going to let them act like there was.

"The war is over," Harry said clearly. "I know that there are still some who resent that, but the Ministry has been very thorough—all the Death Eaters who posed a real threat are in Azkaban. Are you saying the Ministry doesn't take your safety seriously?"

No one said anything, so Harry pressed on.

"He's been cleared by the Ministry, and if you say that you've never been pressured into something you regret, then you'd be lying. Do what you came here to do and then go home. There's no reason for this."

Most hurried away, but some left more reluctantly, grumbling. Harry stayed by Draco's side until every last one of them had disappeared, and then he turned to the Slytherin.

"Er—are you all right, Malfoy?"

Draco was breathing heavily. His grey eyes were looking at Harry angrily, but something else shone within them—it almost looked like fear.

"I had it under control," he snapped. "You always have to play the hero, don't you Potter? Well, some of us don't need saving."

Harry bristled, annoyed. "I was only trying to help. They were out of line."

" _You_ were out of line."

"I'm sorry, would you rather I'd let them tear you to pieces? I'll do that, next time!" This was so typical of Malfoy—turning something that could have ended with a 'thank you' into a huge fight. But, Harry admitted to himself, he'd known this sort of hurt before—bruised pride wasn't an easy thing to live with. He sighed. "Listen, Malfoy, I just don't like that sort of thing. I know what it's like to have people… fifth year wasn't easy for me, and it's not something I'd want to repeat."

Draco's eyes flashed. "Don't pretend to know me, Potter. You… you can never understand—"

Harry threw his hands in the air. "Honestly, Malfoy, do you really believe that you're the only one who's ever felt like an outsider? You spent your entire school career making people feel that way!"

It was a low blow, and Harry knew it. But he remembered the anger he'd always felt after an encounter with the other man, the tears Hermione had spilled, and the rage Ron had bottled up inside. If this was the only way to get Draco to see it, then so be it.

Draco's voice shook with rage. "Don't you dare compare yourself to me, Potter. You can never know what it's like to be hated as I am."

The blood drained from Harry's face, and he was left speechless. His heart began to pound, panicked.

"Did—did you just say…"

Draco leaned away from him. "I'd hoped mine was… incorrect."

The two stared at each other for a moment.

"What does yours say?" Harry croaked at last.

Draco looked away. "'There's no reason for this.' I thought maybe… but if I've just said yours…"

He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable.

Harry stared at him for a long time. This was the man who had bullied him and his friends almost relentlessly through seven years of school, who'd joined ranks with the man who had killed his parents and countless others, and didn't sound like the words 'thank you' had ever left his lips in his life. _He_ was the one Harry was destined to love more than anyone else—and who was destined to love him back?

But then… Harry's mind went to his short visit in Malfoy Manor, when Draco had insisted that it hadn't been Harry that the Snatchers had captured. He'd recognized him—how could he not?—but he'd still tried to protect him. And Narcissa Malfoy had done the same thing, in the Forbidden Forest.

Maybe there was something redeemable in him. Maybe he just hadn't been allowed to see that side of Draco yet.

He grabbed Draco's arm, pushing up the sleeve and pulling a Muggle marker from his pocket. He ignored both the Slytherin's protests and the ugly Dark Mark on his arm and scribbled down his address.

"I have to pick up Teddy now," he told him, "but I want to see if the same thing happens tomorrow. Stop by whenever."

Before Draco could say anything else, Harry walked a few paces away and Apparated.

He was outside Andromeda's home, but before he knocked on the door he leaned against the wall, trying to slow the beating of his heart. He wasn't sure how this would go, but part of him wanted to try. And if Malfoy was still an intolerable prick, well, that was that, wasn't it?

He plastered on a smile for his godson, hoping that Andromeda didn't seen through it. He wasn't sure how he'd tell her that her nephew was his soulmate.

 _That_ would be one hell of a conversation.

* * *

The knock sounded at seven in the morning, when Harry was serving Teddy breakfast. He hurried over to the door of his flat, forgetting momentarily who he'd invited over the previous day.

When he saw Draco on the other side of the door, his stomach plummeted. Nevertheless, he invited him in.

"Er… I hope you don't mind that Teddy's here. It's my week to watch him."

Draco, looking highly uncomfortable, glanced over at the small boy watching them from the kitchen table. "I don't mind."

Harry put the kettle on, not sure what else to do. He wished more than ever that there was someone he could ask about this type of situation, but there just… wasn't.

Harry picked Teddy up and began bustling around the kitchen, the little boy's weight a small comfort.

"Have you looked at your words yet?" Harry asked, not turning around.

Draco's voice sounded odd. "You've already said them."

Harry winced. "Oh. Not a fluke then, I guess."

Draco sighed. "Unfortunately."

The two stared at each other a moment longer.

"I should go, Potter," Draco said suddenly. "I shouldn't be here, this isn't going anywhere—"

"No, don't," Harry said hurriedly, surprising himself. "This happened for a reason, and I want to know what it is. Don't you want to… to try?"

Draco didn't respond for a long time. Finally, he said, "It doesn't matter what I want, Potter. There are shoulds and shouldn'ts, and this looks like the latter."

Harry put Teddy down. "There isn't a protocol for this. No one is going to incriminate you for trying this out."

He wasn't sure why he was fighting so hard for this. All he knew was that he wanted to feel like he'd seen so many others feel—loved. Completely, unconditionally loved. Maybe it was because the Dursleys had starved him of it, but he wanted it more than anything else. The universe thought Draco could do it. Harry couldn't give him that love now, but he wanted to know if there was a possibility that he someday _could._

But Draco left that day.

And he came back the next.

* * *

It was strange, their relationship—if you could call it that. Draco would stop by once or twice a week, always unannounced, and the two would spend a couple hours together. Sometimes they just sat in silence and watched the telly. Sometimes Harry would talk Draco's ear off about Quidditch if things got awkward. Sometimes they would have soul-baring conversations that they would never dare reveal to anyone else. They fought often, about both big things and small things. It was three months before they even called each other by their first names.

On one such occasion, they were at Harry's flat, sitting in silence. Draco was fiddling with his sleeve, and Harry was pretending to read a book. He was sure he wasn't fooling the other man, but Draco didn't call him out on it.

"Pot—Harry?"

Harry glanced up, his glasses slightly crooked. "Yeah?"

"I always wondered…" He was staring at Harry's book, which was about Defense Against the Dark Arts—most of the books Harry owned were. "Why did you become an Auror? Don't you want to get away from the war?"

Harry slowly set the book down, considering his options. He could wave the question aside, or snap and say that it was none of Draco's business. But he knew that the other man had let down his guard just to ask the question, and Harry Potter never struck a man whose defenses were down.

"I don't think I can ever escape it." He laughed hollowly. "It was the biggest part of my life for so long, y'know? Fighting the people who want to take away the rights of others, who want to hurt the people I care about… that's all I know how to do. Becoming an Auror just made sense, I guess."

Draco was silent. Harry cleared his throat. "The war was a nightmare, huh?"

Draco shuddered. He half-turned his head to face Harry. "I didn't really understand until… until I had to take part," he whispered. "I hated them—Muggleborns—because I was supposed to. I'd always thought they were just harmless words. It was stupid, and naive," he spat at himself, "but I didn't realize what that hate could drive people to do. It's not something I ever think I can recover from, and it's not a part of me that I'm… that I'm proud of."

Harry hesitated for a long moment before finally resting his hand on Draco's shoulder. "But your eyes are open now," he pointed out. "You're not blind anymore, and honestly, I think that's for the better."

Draco finally looked up at him, his grey eyes haunted. "You don't know the things I did." His breathing was quickening. "The Unforgivables—"

"I've cast them, too," Harry admitted. "Sometimes there just aren't a lot of options."

"Could you forgive me?" Draco questioned, leaning forward. "Everything I've done, can you forgive that?"

Harry pulled away, mulling over his words carefully. "No… at least, not now," he said truthfully. "But if you can prove that, in the long run, you've changed—or are acting on the better parts of yourself—then I think I can."

Draco nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "Why did you save me in the Room of Requirement that night?" he asked softly. "We'd come in there to kill you."

Harry was startled. "Well, I couldn't very well leave you to burn alive, now could I?" He shifted, uncomfortable under his visitor's scrutiny. "I don't kill people. And, I dunno. You weren't ever really a Death Eater to me. Someone I hated, maybe, but still my classmate."

Draco leaned forwards. "And do you hate me now?"

Harry tilted his head to the side in thought. "I… dunno. Mostly you just confuse me."

Draco smiled tiredly, and Harry was startled to realize that this was the first real smile he'd ever seen the him wear. The blond-haired man settled back into the cushions. "I can live with that."

* * *

One day, Draco walked into the apartment like he always did, but Harry didn't greet him like usual. He heard the other man come over, but didn't look up from the photo album he was holding.

Draco stood beside him for a moment, unsure, before he lowered himself next to Harry.

"Harry," he said slowly. "What's wrong?"

Harry felt a little bit of rage bubble up inside him. "What do you care?" he asked thickly. "My family has never been worth anything to you."

Draco flinched, but Harry didn't care. They'd been dancing around the subject of Draco's obvious standing on blood purity, and what better day to face the issue than the day Sirius died?

Sirius had been able to break away from his family's ideals. Maybe Draco could too. Or maybe their conversation would drown whatever minimal affection that they had for each other so far.

"I—I—it's not that," Draco stammered, "that I don't think they're worth anything… they were people, I know that, I just—"

Harry closed his eyes. His emotions felt so close to the surface. He could still clearly picture the arch of Sirius' back and the bulge of his eyes as he fell slowly to his death… Losing that part of him had been some of the worst pain he'd ever endured. Could Draco ever truly know what that pain felt like?

"Thought that it was better them than some pureblooded family?" Harry interrupted harshly. In school he would have taken pleasure in causing Draco's panic, but so much had changed between them since then. Now, in this moment, he was just angry. He wanted to know the truth, because anyone who called the people he loved 'dirty'... he could never come to love them.

Sometimes he cursed the words on his shoulder more than the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

"No!" Draco's voice was loud and distinctly un-Malfoy-like, and Harry finally looked up at him, startled. "No, I don't think that. Or maybe I did. But this is what I've been trying to tell you for months, you bastard! I don't _know_ what I think anymore."

His normally pale face was flushed a dark pink, and his fists were clenched around the fabric of his midnight-blue robes. He was trembling slightly, and Harry's heart beat faster in his chest.

"I'm sorry for what I've said about your family in the past. Truly, I am. But I didn't realize how awful it was until I saw—until I had to choose between my morals and my family. I don't think I've ever chosen. But I learned in that war that no one was safe from him, not even if you were one of his followers. I felt exactly the same as them then. Because I couldn't be any less afraid than they were."

Draco put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He knotted his fingers in his hair, breathing heavily. "I was just afraid. I can't be brave like you are… I just can't be. It's not in me. And I want to be there for you, not because we're meant to be lovers, but because it feels right. But I've never allowed myself to follow my emotions, and I don't know how to help you. There aren't any answers to find, and I need you to tell me how to get some."

Harry was speechless. He felt an odd stirring in his chest, and he realized that in order to to see the better side of Draco, he needed to let Draco see the more vulnerable side of him.

Harry sighed, scrubbing a hand over his most famous scar. "Sirius died today," he said hoarsely. "Well. A few years ago. In fifth year. I met him in third year, found out he was innocent… you must have heard the story. I barely got to see him at all, but he was the closest thing to a parent I've ever had. I wasn't afraid to talk to him about anything… I told him more than I ever told anyone." He looked away. "He was too young. His life was too hard." Tears pricked at his green eyes, and he cursed himself inwardly. He didn't want to show this weakness to anyone, least of all the man beside him.

Cool, slim fingers gently slid through Harry's hair and threaded through his fingers. They pulled his hand away from his head, then brought their hands down to rest on the small space of sofa in between the two men. Neither said anything, just looked at their entwined fingers in silence.

Slowly, the tension left Harry's shoulders. His eyelids began to grow heavy, and he found himself leaning against the pillows. He smiled exhaustedly at Draco, who squeezed his hand, grey eyes wide. He wasn't sure how Draco had known what to do, but he was glad the other man had taken this chance. He hoped it was helping both of them.

That was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A year after that, they shared their first kiss.

Three years later, they were sitting in that same flat while Teddy was at a friend's house. They were passing a bottle of firewhiskey back and forth. They'd been quiet for most of the evening, but they soon broke it.

"What does it feel like," Draco asked, "raising Teddy?"

A fond smile spread over his face when Harry thought of his godson. "It's hard sometimes," he admitted, "but I wouldn't trade it for the world. It's fun. You'd… you'd be good at it."

Draco scoffed at him. "I'd be a nightmare of a father figure."

Harry snorted. "With an attitude like that, maybe."

They were twenty-five now, but only a few years into their relationship. Some nights were more passionate than others, but Harry had found that he liked these nights the best. When he and Draco were curled around each other, content to just _be_ , he knew that it wasn't lust keeping his lover there—it was real attraction. Maybe even love.

Harry turned his head and captured the blond's lips with his own. "You and Teddy should hang out sometime," he murmured. "He'd like you."

Draco hesitated. "Only if you're there for damage control."

Harry laughed. "Merlin, I'd never dream of leaving you two alone. You'd burn the place down."

Draco shoved his arm, and Harry's laughs slowly subsided.

They'd had a long journey, that much was certain. They'd been tried more than most couples ever would be, but Harry liked to think that they were stronger because of it. Draco had let go of most of his prejudices, and Harry had learned to be more open with his emotions. It was healthier for him, and he'd quickly learned that giving Draco a problem to work out kept him happy and content.

Harry loved this new life. He loved waking up in the morning and reading the words on Draco's shoulder, then forgetting about them and surprising himself by letting those predestined words slip out. It was a nice reinforcement that they were still meant for each other, no matter what fight they were in or how hopeless their day seemed.

He'd never thought he could be this happy. He'd had such a love-starved childhood, and to have an unlimited supply every day—and to offer that same amount to another person—was incredible.

"Harry?" Draco's soft voice broke through the silence of the night.

The Gryffindor turned his head again, smiling sleepily. "Yeah?"

"I'm… I'm glad we gave this a shot."

Harry wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"So am I," he whispered. "So am I."


End file.
